


Just Dudes Being Dudes

by Ann_Drist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Biromantic Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bunker, Castiel does research on pop culture, Cuddling, Domestic, Fluff, Food, Gadreel who's that, Health Food Enthusiast Sam, In-denial Dean, Incest Mention, Internalized Homophobia, Let me know if I need to tag anything else and I will, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Oblivious Castiel, Pie, Sam ships Destiel, Schmoop, Slash shipping, Snuggling, Spooning, Star Wars - Freeform, Un self-aware Dean, canon-divergent, cas in the bunker, casual ableist language, episodic chapters spanning S9-S10 up to but not beyond Angel Heart, movie-watching, talk about sex, time lapse between chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:37:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4760165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Drist/pseuds/Ann_Drist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that Cas is living in the bunker, the sexual tension and romantic undercurrents between his brother and their celestial friend are more glaringly obvious to Sam than ever before. When Sam asks about it, Dean insists that he and Cas are merely acting like your average heterosexual dudebros.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sometimes Dudes Just Feed Each Other Pie, Okay? It’s Not Weird.

When Cas first moved in to the bunker, Dean made a point of encouraging him to try new foods. Now that he was cut off from his grace, he was essentially human. “You gotta eat anyway, so you might as well enjoy it,” Dean told him, around a mouth full of fries. Cas could see the logic in that, so he agreed to try whatever his friends thought he might like. 

Sam couldn’t help noticing that the first foods Dean had lined up for Cas to try were all of _Dean’s_ favorites. Fries and burgers for lunch, and now steak and baked potatoes for dinner. 

While he ate, Cas remarked that he seemed to have similar tastes to the late Jimmy. He was a big fan of red meat. At lunch, Cas had said that the fries were “crispy” and seemed to enjoy the novelty of biting into them. At dinner, he poked dubiously at the plain baked potato and confessed that he didn’t care for its texture. 

Sam looked at them over his plate of mixed greens topped with grilled chicken breast. He fretted that he was going to have _two_ unhealthy eaters to worry about now. The only “vegetable” that Dean liked to eat was potatoes (preferably fried), and the only time Dean got any fruit in his diet was when it was baked inside of a sugary crust! As if that weren’t bad enough, now Dean was teaching Cas to eat just like him. Sam could only hope that he’d have a chance to introduce Cas to the simple joy of eating a nice salad. Maybe when Dean was out working on the Impala or something. 

After they were done eating, Dean cleared their plates away. “Don’t go anywhere, you guys, I got dessert.” 

Sam sighed. 

“C’mon, Sammy, you’ve been good. Salad, no red meat. Live a little! Have half a slice of pie.” 

“Well . . . maybe. What kind is it?” Sam asked. 

Dean rubbed his hands together and grinned. “It is a sour cherry bourbon pie with an oat and slivered almond topping, sprinkled with orange zest.” 

“I . . . wow, you’re really stepping up your pie game.” 

“Dude, I am in _love_ with that new bakery I found. It’s a long drive to get there, but they make the _best_ stuff.” Dean peeked through the oven window where the pie was warming. “Haven’t tried this kind yet, but they’ve never let me down before.” He cracked the oven door open and breathed in the warm, pie-scented air. “ _Mmmmmm.”_

The scent wafted over towards Sam and Cas. 

Sam sat up a little bit straighter. “Oh, wow. Okay, I’ll have a _tiny_ little slice.” 

Cas tentatively sniffed the air. “It does smell pleasant.” He frowned and put a hand to the side of his face. “My mouth is producing more saliva than usual.” 

Sam laughed. “That’s what happens when you smell something delicious. It’s, ah, where the phrase ‘mouth-watering’ comes from.” 

Cas frowned in concentration. “‘Mouth-watering.’ How odd. I’ll have to remember that.” 

Dean carefully took the pie out and cut a regular slice for Cas and a small one for Sam. He brought them over to the table and then rummaged around in the fridge. 

“Can’t forget the finishing touch!” he said, and held out an aerosol can of whipped cream to Sam and Cas. 

Sam chuckled. “No, I’m good, man. This is more than enough.” 

Cas looked intrigued. “I’ll give it a try.” 

Dean handed him the bottle and went to get his own slice of pie. As he was trying to decide how generous a slice he should cut, Dean heard a hiss of whipped cream and a stifled yelp. 

Back at the table, Cas was sitting stock-still and eyeing the whipped cream can indignantly. There was a dollop of whipped cream sitting on his nose. 

Sam was giggling and trying not to spew his mouthful of pie everywhere. 

Dean hustled back over to the table and took the can from Cas. 

“My bad, I forgot you wouldn’t know how these work.” He couldn’t help grinning at the sight of frazzled Cas with whipped cream on his nose. Dean reached a finger out and scraped the whipped cream off his friend’s nose. 

He held his finger in front of Cas’s face. “Go ahead, try it.” 

Cas just looked at Dean. 

“See if you like it. If you do, I’ll put some on your pie. If you don’t, I won’t.” 

Cas steadied Dean’s hand with his own, leaned forward and tentatively poked his tongue at the whipped topping, then sat back and licked his lips.

“How do you like it?” Dean asked

“It’s sweet, but mildly so. Cool. Light and,” he smacked his lips together, “fluffy.” 

“Want some on your slice?” 

Cas narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. “I . . . think so, yes. Please.” 

Dean dispensed a dollop of whipped cream on the pie and slapped Cas on the shoulder. “Enjoy. I’m gonna take this with me,” he waggled the can at him, “so you don’t hurt yourself.” 

Cas huffed and started poking the pie with his fork. 

Dean set the whipped cream down by his seat and went to wash the remaining whipped cream off his hand. 

Sam had gone from giggling to silently staring at Cas and Dean with his mouth open. But then his half-chewed bite of pie almost fell onto his plate, so he hastily shut his mouth and focused on eating his pie. 

“How do you like the pie, Sam?” Dean asked as he settled his seat with a hearty slice of pie. 

“What? Oh, um, it’s really freakin’ good! Whole different class from those sticky-sweet convenience store pies. There’s this tartness to it, and a bourbon kick.” 

Dean shoved a huge forkful in his mouth and leaned back and moaned. “Oh my _god_ , yes. What you said. _Mmm._ ” Dean spent the next few minutes shoveling pie into his mouth and making hedonistic moans of delight. Mouth still partly full, he asked, “What do you think, Cas?” 

A glance at his plate told him that Cas had only eaten the tip of the slice, a few bites of the crust, and all of the whipped topping. 

Cas pursed his lips. “I enjoyed the taste of the cherries, but not the texture of baked fruit. I might like unbaked sour cherries. There was also a sting—from the bourbon? It was interesting. The slivered almond and oat topping was nice- not too sweet, and crispy. But I don't think that pie is really my ‘thing.’” 

Dean looked crestfallen. 

“Well, Dean, you won’t have bicker about who gets the last piece of pie when you’re an old married couple,” Sam said. 

Dean glared at his brother. He pointed a finger at Sam and opened his mouth, but before he could get a word out Cas pushed his plate of mostly-uneaten pie at him. “Do you want the rest of mine? You’ve already finished yours.” 

“I—yeah, thanks, Cas.” 

Sam grinned. “Like I sai—oof!” 

Dean kicked Sam in the shin before he could say anything else. 

“Anyway, sorry you didn’t like it that much, Cas. I was hoping you would.” 

“I enjoyed trying something new. Humans have to eat several times a day; I’m sure I’ll have a chance to find more foods that I like.” 

Dean nodded in lieu of speaking because he had once again crammed his mouth full of pie. 

Cas yawned, then frowned, rubbing his jaw. “I'll never get used to that.” He folded his napkin and set it on the table. “Well, thank you for the meal, Dean.” He yawned again. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, no problem. Why don’t you head off to bed, I’ll clean up here.” 

Cas stood up. “Yes, time for me to go . . . fall unconscious for several hours. Yet another thing I’m getting used to.” He sighed. “Good night, Sam,” he said as he walked off to his room. 

"Night, Cas!" Sam stared after him and shook his head.  

Dean carried his dirty dessert plate over to the sink and turned on the tap. “Hey, Sammy, whenever you’re done, if you bring over the dirty plates, I’ll scrub.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Sam carried over the remaining dirty dishes and silverware. Dean dumped the clean plates in the dish rack and Sam started drying them off and putting them away. 

They worked in silence, which would have been nice and comfortable if not for the slowly-deepening frown lines etched into Sam’s forehead. 

“Sam, what is wrong with your face? If you got somethin to say, say it.” 

“Well, I, not that it matters, and I don’t really care either way, but I’m just curious . . .” 

Dean stared at him. “About what? Spit it out already.” 

Sam tilted his head. “What’s goin on with you and Cas?” 

“What? Nothin. We made up. We’re not fightin anymore.” 

“Well, yeah, I can _tell_ you’re not fighting anymore. It’s just that, at dinner tonight, you guys seemed kind of . . .” 

Dean gestured, palms up and eyebrows raised, indicating for Sam to get the fuck on with whatever he had to say.

Sam winced, afraid of how Dean would react. “. . . relationship-y.” 

Dean’s facial expression quickly changed from impatience to disbelief. “‘Relationship-y?’” he repeated, using air quotes. “That’s not a real word Sammy.” He turned his back and returned to scrubbing dishes. 

Sam scoffed. “Well, I don’t know how else to describe it, Dean, you _hand-fed_ him _whipped cream_ like it was no big deal.” 

Dean blushed. “Cuz it’s _not_ a big deal!” he said. He scrubbed the dishes with more force than necessary, sending soap suds and warm water slopping all over the place. 

“Him _licking_ whipped cream off of your _finger_ , _while_ you guys were _maintaining eye contact_ is not a big deal?” Sam asked. 

“It’s not—He’s never been able to like, really taste food before, cuz he’s been a friggin ‘multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent’ for like a thousand years, and even in his vessel apparently that doesn’t feel the same as being plain old human, and I’m just, you know, takin him under my w—, I mean, showin him the ropes . . .” 

Dean looked over his shoulder. Sam was staring at him with his arms crossed, looking like he wasn't buying any of it. Dean turned back angrily. “Just drop it already, Sammy.” Dean attacked the grimy frying pan. “It’s just . . . dudes bein dudes.” 

Sam held up his hands in defeat. “Ooo-kay. I wasn’t aware that ‘dudes’ hand-fed whipped cream to other ‘dudes’—”

Dean pointed the soapy frying pan at his brother. “Yeah, well _maybe_ you should ‘stop being close-minded,’ ‘broaden your horizons,’ and ‘get in touch with your sensitive side.’ Huh? That sound like good advice to you? I seem to recall some nerdy college Poindexter tellin me that, a few years back.” 

“Alright, alright, you win.”

“Damn right I win,” Dean grumbled, turning back to the sink.

“Tell you what, I’ll cook us dinner tomorrow night to make it up to you.” 

Dean frowned. “How is me eatin rabbit food a reward for winnin an argument?” 

“I’ll make it taste good, I swear.” 

Dean gave him a wary look. 

“No, really, I’ll go look up some recipes now. I won’t let you down, I swear.” Sam left the kitchen before Dean could have a change to argue with him even more. 

Dean let out a deep breath and scrubbed the frying pan more gently. “Just dudes bein dudes,” he said to the soap bubbles. 


	2. Movie Night for Dudes:  No Homoerotic Tension or Desperate Romantic Pining Whatsoever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean watch a movie together. In a normal, dudely fashion.

Late one night Sam walked past the library, paused, and walked back a couple steps. He peered through the entrance to the library again. Dean’s laptop was set up on a table. The screen emitted a flickering blue glow. Seated on the couch facing it were Dean and Cas. Arm in arm. Snuggled up together. With Cas resting his head on Dean’s shoulder and Dean’s head gently resting against Cas’s. 

Sam just stood and started, mouth agape. 

After some time, Dean noticed the unnaturally tall figure starting in the hallway. He lifted his head off Cas and twisted his head around to glare at Sam. _‘What?’_ Dean mouthed angrily. 

Sam raised his palms to the ceiling. _‘Dude, what the fuck?’_ he mouthed back. 

_‘Just. Dudes. Being. Dudes!’_ Dean mouthed emphatically. 

_‘Fine,’_ Sam mouthed, and left. 

 

  

Dean exhaled through his nose and settled his head back against Cas. It was _Star Wars,_ for Christssake, Dean thought to himself. Doesn’t get more dude-ly than that. Completely heterosexual.  

Cas snuggled closer to him and Dean attempted to ignore the light, happy feelings stirring up in his chest. 

“There’s a lot of homoerotic tension between Han and Luke.”  

Dean lifted his head back up and looked down at Cas. “Uh. What now?” 

Cas gestured at the screen. “The way they interact, the tones of their voices. Han passes it off like it’s combative banter but there is this charged . . . undercurrent.”  

Dean at the screen and then Cas and back again a couple times. “Where in the hell did you get that idea?” 

“I read up on the film on some internet message boards. Don’t worry, they tag their ‘spoilers’ so I am ‘unspoiled.’” 

“The hell kinda message boards have you been going to?” 

“Ones frequented by academics of popular culture.” 

“Huh. Well I don’t think that—”

“Watch for it,” Cas said. 

Dean sat up a bit so he could focus on the screen without straining his neck. He paid more attention to the movie for the next few minutes. 

“Well, son of a bitch. I guess . . . maybe I do see what you’re talking about.” 

Cas nodded and gestured at the screen. “It’s right there.” 

“So, Han likes Luke, huh?” Dean asked. 

Cas nodded. 

“Do you think . . .” Dean licked his lips. His mouth felt dry. “Do you think Luke likes him back?” 

Cas looked up at him. “What do you see?” He held eye contact with him for the usual amount of time (30 full seconds), and then looked back at the screen. 

Dean studied the interactions between Han and Luke for a while, not paying attention to much else going on in the movie. He’d seen it enough times that he had the plot—and most of the dialogue—memorized, anyway. Even though he’d watched it so many times before, he found himself noticing new things. What he’d previously seen as Luke’s jealousy over Leia not being interested in him could easily be seen as jealousy that Han was more interested in the princess than in Luke. 

And frankly, Dean found the Luke/Han angle more appealing than Luke/Leia, because even though George Lucas hadn’t planned it at the time (and even though Cas was unspoiled and Dean intended to keep it that way), _Dean_ knew that Luke and Leia were actually siblings. And even though a dude/dude love story wasn’t something really you saw in late 70s/early 80s sci fi (not canon anyway), it was a hell of a lot more appealing than sibling incest. 

Dean shuddered at the thought. _Gross_.   

Still, even if Dean pretended that he didn’t know the plot points that were revealed in the later two movies . . . He could see that there was something there between Luke and Han. Or the potential for something, at least. And from what he could tell, it was mutual. 

“I . . . I think Luke likes him,” Dean finally said. 

Cas nodded against his shoulder. “I think so, too.” 

_Oh my god, is he talking in code right now. Is he talking about us? If so, am I just supposed to sit and think about it or does he want me to make a move? Should I make a move? Is he waiting for me to make a move?_

_Oh god, what if he isn’t talking about us? What if he’s just making commentary on the damn movie? But even if he is talking about us, that doesn’t necessarily mean he wants me to just start macking on him out of the blue, and maybe he’s not even talking about us at all, sometimes a cigar is just a penis—oh god I’m so fucked._

Dean found it impossible to focus on the movie after that. He just focused on breathing in and out, slowly and evenly, and tried to regulate his racing heartbeat. Cas was leaning _right_ on Dean’s chest. He was going to notice . . . He was going to wonder . . . 

After a while Dean realized Cas’s breathing was softer and more even than usual. He peeked down at him and saw that his eyes had drifted shut. 

He settled back and shut his eyes, too. He knew Cas had trouble falling asleep—it wasn’t something the ex-angel was used to.

He would just rest his eyes for a bit until Cas woke from his doze and could to walk to his room. 

 

 

 

Late-night research session completed, Sam walked back down the hall to his room. He was almost sleepy enough to just conk out at the table and use a book for a pillow, but he knew he’d rest better in his bed. 

However, there was one more book left on his reading list, and he wanted to go ahead and grab it before he could forget about it in the morning. He glanced at his watch. It was late enough that Dean and Cas’s movie should have ended hours ago. 

The library was completely dark. The faint blue glow of the laptop was gone. Good. 

When Sam flicked the lights on, he saw he had been wrong. Dean and Cas were still sitting on the couch, in the same pose they’d been in before. The only difference was that instead of watching a movie, they were both fast asleep. 

Sam’s first instinct was to leave—he felt like he was intruding. But Cas’s arms were folded against his chest and his legs were curled up on the couch under him. He looked cold. 

Sam ducked back into the hallway and snagged a spare blanket from the linen closet. He tiptoed over to drape it across his brother and Cas. Cas let out a soft sigh and snuggled into the blanket and closer to Dean. It was kind of adorable.

Sam tiptoed out of the room and gently shut off the light. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: There's a joke in here that hinges on Dean trying to make a reference, but he gets it wrong. I realized that people who aren't familiar w/ the reference won't get the joke, so detailed explanation:
> 
> When Dean says "Sometimes a cigar is just a penis," the quote he's trying to think of is "sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." It's a Freud quote referencing phallic imagery. But of course, Dean is so flustered over Cas that he makes a Freudian slip in the middle of his Freudian reference.   
> Anyways! If that line had you scratching your head instead of laughing, I hope that clears things up!
> 
>  
> 
> Stay tuned to find out what completely heterosexual thing Dean and Cas will do next!


	3. Dude, Let’s Spend the Night Together. No Homo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Castiel's grace has been restored, Sam and Dean have encouraged him to keep living in the bunker for as long as he wants. 
> 
> Castiel accepts, but he's trying to come up with a productive way to spend his nights now that he no longer needs sleep.

Dean was in the middle of getting his four hours of sleep. Usually he slept better in the bunker. It was shielded and warded. There were no weird smells from iffy housekeeping or sagging mattresses like many of the motels he’d stayed in. And as much as he loved Baby, she was not the most comfortable thing in the world to catch a night’s sleep in. 

It was comfortable sleeping in his own bed, in a room that was just his. This was something he’d never had before in his entire life, not since he was four. He felt safe and secure. 

So he was surprised when he found himself awake in the middle of his sleep cycle. He double-checked his watch to make sure, but there it was. 4 am, and he normally didn’t wake up until 6. (Gotta get in those solid four hours.) 

Dean yawned and stretched, then rolled over and jolted. “Jesus Christ!” 

Cas was standing in the middle of the room, staring at him. 

The angel cocked his head to the side. “No, it’s just me.” 

Dean inhaled through his nose and exhaled with a sigh. “Cas,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm, “We’ve talked about this.” 

“I’m sorry, Dean. It wasn’t my intention to disturb you. I merely wanted to watch over you.” 

“Why? Why do you need to watch over me?” 

Cas fidgeted. “I can sense your dreams. I know they’re not . . . pleasant. I thought, now that my grace is restored, I might be able to help.” 

Dean waved it off. “Cas, it’s not a big deal or anything. I have dreams like that all the time.” 

Cas looked pained. “I know.” 

Dean sighed. “You don’t have to worry about it.” 

“I know I don’t _have_ to; I still do, regardless,” Cas said quietly. 

Dean sighed and sat up. “Okay, fine, fine. You can ‘watch over me.’ But, if it doesn’t help with the nightmares, then you give this a rest and quit tryin to friggin loom over me and watch while I’m sleeping.” 

Cas nodded. He walked over to the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat facing Dean, fixing him with that unblinking stare. 

“O…kay then,” Dean said. He laid down and turned his back to Cas, trying to forget that the angel was there. But as he closed his eyes and tried to relax, he could _feel_ Cas’s gaze boring into his back. 

Dean sat up abruptly. “You know what, this isn’t gonna work. I can’t sleep with you sitting right there staring at me.” 

Cas looked distressed. “I truly think I can can help prevent your nightmares.” 

“Well, I’m not gonna have _nightmares_ if I can’t fall _asleep_.” 

Cas looked absolutely crestfallen. Dean signed. He didn’t want to be mean to Cas, even if the damn angel’s attempts to help him were putting him on edge. 

“Is actually looking at me necessary to the ‘watching over me’ thing? Like, do you literally need to watch me?” 

“Well, no. Proximity is what’s most important.” 

“Okay, fine.” Dean scooted over, away from Cas, and threw back the covers. He patted the empty side of the bed. 

Cas frowned. “Dean, I have my powers again. I’m not human. You know I don’t need sleep.” 

“Yeah, but it’s weird for you to spend the night standin in the middle of the room or sittin up in a chair starin at me. I’d offer you a couch or a recliner to crash in, but I’m a little short on furniture in here. This is the best I got.” 

Cas sat on the edge of the bed, and gingerly laid down. 

“Dude, you’ve got your shoes on, and your freakin trench coat! Dammit, Cas! Get your shoes off my bed, and take that coat off while you’re at it.”

Cas got back up, stepped out of his shoes and kicked them towards the desk. He shrugged off his trench, laid it on the desk chair, and then walked back over to the bed.

Apparently Cas thought he was all set set to turn in. Even though he was still fully dressed in business attire. Dean sighed, exasperated. “You’re still wearing a freakin’ suit jacket, and your _tie_ , and a belt.”

Cas looked at Dean. He slipped the jacket off his shoulders and tossed it on the chair. Then he loosened his necktie and slipped it out of his shirt collar. Dean couldn’t help following the motion with his eyes. Cas draped the silk accessory on the back of the chair alongside his coat and jacket. 

He unbuckled his belt and looked at Dean. “Do you want me to take my pants off?” 

Dean’s hand clenched into a fist around the bedsheets. His mouth went dry. Oh, _shit_. 

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, was looking at him, with that thousand-yard stare, _hands on his unfastened belt buckle_ , and asking Dean _if he wanted him to take his pants off_ before _getting into bed with him_. 

_And it’s not even my birthday._

_No, shut up, no gay thoughts!_  

“No!” Dean blurted out loud. Cas frowned slightly, and gave him that _you’re not making any sense_ look. “Uh . . . yeah, I mean . . . well, you’d probably be more comfortable if you did . . . that, so . . . I guess, if you want to . . .” His voice trailed off to a whisper. 

Cas unbuttoned his fly and grasped the zipper. Dean realized he was staring and quickly looked away. _Zip. Rustle_. 

“Would you like me to take off my shirt, too?” Cas asked. 

Dean twitched, but kept staring fixedly at the wall. “Uh, well, it’s a collared, button-up dress shirt . . . s’not exactly comfortable sleepwear . . .” He let out a weak chuckle that he hoped sounded confident and assured instead of unnerved and frazzled. 

_Rustle. Sssh._

“Should I take off anything else?” 

Dean turned around slowly, peeking out of the corners of his eyes. Cas was wearing a sleeveless white undershirt and short grey boxers. He swallowed. “No,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Ah, that looks . . . like you’ll be comfortable.” 

Cas sat back down on the edge of the bed and lay down again. Dean quickly threw half of the covers over him, then pointed at Cas and drew a line down the covers right in between them. 

“ _This_ is my side, and _this_ is your side. There will be no crossing of the sides, understand? We both stay on our sides. There’s not gonna be any cuddling, or anything.” 

Cas looked confused. “What’s cuddling?” 

“It’s . . . a thing . . . that’s not going to happen. If you don’t know what it is then . . . so much the better, I guess.” 

Cas nodded. “I'll stay on this side.” 

“And you’re not gonna stare at me, understand? Roll over and face away from me.” 

Cas did as he was told. “Like this?” 

“Yes, exactly.” Dean rolled over and faced the opposite wall. “G’night Cas.” 

“Good night, Dean.” 

Dean took deep, even breaths, trying to get his body back into sleep mode. His heart was thrumming in his chest. Yeah, he may have fallen asleep next to Cas before, that time they were watching _A New Hope_ , but neither of them had actually planned to do that. And that was when they were both seated on a couch, wearing _pants_ and _shoes_. 

Here they were in a _bed_. Lying _down_. Wearing only undershirts and boxers. It was _different_. 

And last time, Cas had fallen asleep first because he’d been in mojo-free human-mode, with no supercharged grace giving him ridiculous powers. 

Dean didn’t really care either way. Cas was still Cas no matter what. But it was hard to relax and go to sleep when he knew that angel-Cas would be lying awake next to him all night. Cas had the ability to sense his thoughts. He’d even entered his dreams in the past. 

As nerve-wracking as it was to have Cas in bed with him, his presence was still comforting. Dean reminded himself that this wasn’t freshly-descended from heaven Cas. He wasn’t in his room to try to pry into his thoughts or read his mind. He just wanted to help Dean keep his awful nightmares at bay. And waking up next to Cas was . . . a hell of a lot more appealing than waking up with a case of the shakes, convinced that he was trapped in hell or purgatory with no way out. 

He just hoped that if he did have any embarrassing dreams about Cas. _(Which I don’t have that often, anyway. Which is a good thing! Obviously!)_  

Hopefully if Dean did, the angel would have the grace (heheh) to pretend he hadn’t noticed. The last thing Dean needed was his best friend asking him why sometimes Dean had dreams about Cas doing . . . a few different activities that Cas would never actually want to do in real life. 

Not with Dean, anyway. 

Dean exhaled and focused on deep breathing. He was not going to think about doing weird sex things with Cas. He was going to think about how soft the sheets were, how the mattress provided just the right amount of support . . . and how much safer and at ease he felt compared to all the other nights he’d slept here . . .

 

 

Dean came awake slowly, eyes still closed. It felt later in the morning than usual, but he couldn’t complain. He felt well-rested. And comfortable. He snuggled deeper into the mattress and rubbed his head against the pillow. It felt oddly firm. 

He cracked his eyes open. _Ah_. His head was resting on Cas’s bony shoulder.

Dean felt too sleepy and content to be mad, and honestly Cas’s shoulder was a comfy headrest, but he couldn’t help giving his friend a hard time. 

“Thought I told you to stay on your side,” Dean mumbled against Cas’s shoulder. 

“I _did_ stay on my side. You’re the one who broke your own rule.” 

Dean lifted his head up a bit and glanced around. Shit. Cas was right. Sometime during the night, he had rolled over onto Cas’s side of the bed and . . . apparently turned into a gigantic snuggle bunny. Dean’s torso was flush against Cas’s back. Dean's arm was circled firmly around Cas's middle. They were both curled up on their sides, knees tucked almost into a fetal position. They were spooned snugly together and it felt . . . really nice. Cas wasn’t pushing him away or getting up. And though Dean was well-rested, he still felt pleasantly sleepy. So he stayed put. 

Thank god he didn’t have morning wood. That would have made this incredibly awkward. 

Of course, thinking about that made his dick want to wake up. 

Son of a bitch. Not now. 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and thought about the least sexy things in the universe. 

Stale decaf coffee. 

Hybrid sedans.

Kale. 

That did the trick. No more blood rushing south. Dean breathed a small sigh of relief. 

It hit the back of Cas’s neck and, it may have been Dean’s imagination but he could have sworn the guy shivered. 

“I tried telling you that you’d broken the rule about sides last night,” Cas said. 

“Yeah? I don’t remember that.” 

“I’m not surprised. You were sleeping very deeply. I reminded you that we were supposed to stay on opposite sides and you _growled_ at me.” 

Dean laughed. 

“I don’t see why you’re laughing, Dean, it was very rude.” 

“Ahahaha, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . growl at you, oh my god.” Dean started giggling. 

“I tried to roll you back over to your side, so you wouldn’t be breaking the rules you insisted on, but you grabbed on to me. I didn’t want to risk waking you.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Dean started to move his arm away, but Cas clasped it. 

“No, you don’t have to. This is nice.” 

“Oh.” Dean relaxed again. “Yeah, this is nice, isn’t it.” 

“Yes,” Cas said. 

Dean hid his smiling face in Cas’s shoulder. 

“Did you sleep well?” Cas asked. 

Oh. Dean was abruptly reminded of why Cas was in his bed in the first place. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. That was the best sleep I’ve had . . . in a really long time.” 

“Good. I thought I’d been able to divert a couple of nightmares. I’m glad it was successful.” Cas paused. “Would you . . . like to do this again tonight?” 

Dean flushed. 

Cas. In his bed. Wearing minimal clothing. Letting Dean cuddle with him. Telling him that he felt lonely at night. And that he wanted to sleep in the same bed as him. For the second night in a row. And maybe even the night after that. Possibly even for the foreseeable future. (However the hell long that would be.) 

“Y-yeah, I guess that’d be okay.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for more fluff, cuddling, Dean/Cas sleepovers, and completely regular straight-as-an-arrow dudebro behavior from our charming hero, Dean B. Winchester.
> 
>  
> 
> *The "B" is for bisexual. And biromantic.


	4. Just Dudes Being Dudes Who're Awesome at Communicating with Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas are great at communicating with each other. No matter what Sam says.

Initially Dean felt guilty about monopolizing so much of Castiel’s time every night. He’d grudgingly accepted that for some reason, his angel buddy was willing to sacrifice four hours of every night just for Dean’s benefit. Dean had to remind himself that Castiel had existed for millennia, and that four hours was probably not as significant amount of time to Castiel as it was to Dean. 

Now that Castiel’s angelic powers were successfully diverting his mind’s attempts to create horrifying nightmares that disrupted his sleep, Dean was sleeping way more than four hours every night. He was beginning to get in a solid six hours, on the regular. Sometimes even seven or eight. 

When he noticed that he’d fallen into the habit of two extra hours’ sleep, he’d told Cas that there was no need for him to stay for that extra time. He could leave Dean, or just wake him up and let him start his day. But Castiel had just frowned and protested that he was concerned. He didn’t want to wake Dean in the middle of his REM cycle. 

Dean accepted this. He encouraged Cas to read while he slept. But after one night with Cas sitting up to read some crumbling old tome from the Men of Letters’ stacks, Cas said he could tell Dean hadn’t slept as soundly. Cas left the bedroom to return his book to its proper place in the library. In the hallway, Dean stopped him and tried to convince him he could find something other than reading to occupy his free time at night. 

“Okay, I get that you wanna do what’s best for me. What about you, though? I can’t imagine how boring it is to lay in the dark doing next to nothing for _six_ _hours_ every damn night.” 

Cas blinked. “I pay attention to your sleep patterns. I divert your neural pathways when your subconscious is about to slip into reliving horrifying things or contemplating new possible terrors.” 

“Yeah, but you’re a pretty powerful guy. That can’t be takin’ up all your focus.” 

Cas paused and considered. “I watch over you.” 

“Okay, see, if I know that only part of your focus is on usin’ your mojo to get rid of the nightmares, and the rest of your attention is focused on _watching me sleep_ , I’m not gonna relax, and I won’t go to sleep in the first place.” 

Cas extended two fingers and reached his hand out towards Dean’s forehead. “If you want, I can divert your mind from taking that line of thought.” 

Dean knocked the angel’s hand away and dodged. “ _No_. You’re not screwin’ with my brain any more than you are now. Find something to occupy your time while I’m snoozin’. Or no more sleepovers.” 

Castiel looked distressed. “Dean, my assistance has been very effective.” 

“I know. And I appreciate it. But you’re gonna need to find some hobby to keep you busy during that downtime, or it’s not happenin anymore.” Dean turned and walked away before Cas could come up with more rebuttals. When he glanced back over his shoulder, Cas had already disappeared. 

Sam’s head popped out from the kitchen. “You guys fighting again?” 

“ _No_.” 

“Oh. Cause . . . it kinda sounded like fighting.” 

Dean exhaled through his nose. “Cas and I . . . were not seeing eye-to-eye on . . . a particular issue. But, we talked it out, and we reached a compromise, and now everything is fine.” He forced a smile.

Sam looked at him in disbelief. “Right. Cause you and Cas are _so_ good at communicating.” 

“Me and Cas are _great_ at communicating!” 

Sam let out a scoffing noise. “Yeah, uh, most of the time when you and Cas ‘see eye-to-eye,’ you’re all up in each other’s personal space staring at each other, not actually _agreeing_ about anything.” 

Dean walked into the kitchen. “Get out.” 

“What?” Sam laughed. “Why?” 

“Cause I’m hungry, and I need to make breakfast, and I don’t want you hangin’ around.” 

Sam finished his coffee, grabbed his book and stood up. “Save some bacon for me? Or pancakes, or whatever you’re making?” 

Dean gritted his teeth. “If you _leave now_ , I will _think about it_.” 

“Okay. I’ll be in the library.” Sam held his book up in a goodbye salute and walked out of the kitchen. 

Dean let air fill his cheeks and exhaled slowly. Then he grabbed a skillet and a mixing bowl, banging them around with more force than necessary. He slammed the fridge shut after grabbing milk, eggs, and bacon, and knocked the cabinet doors around while getting sugar and flour. 

Dean felt calmer once the bacon was frying and he was whisking pancake batter together. He made a face. “‘Cause you and Cas are so good at communicating,’” he said, wagging his head back and forth. “Yes, we are. Jackass.” He flipped the bacon over and muttered under his breath as he poured a cup of coffee. 

 

 

Dean didn’t see Cas again that day until he was ready to turn in. Cas was waiting by his bedroom door. Dean put his hand on the door handle and titled his head expectantly at Cas.

Cas let out a sigh. “This is how I’d rather spend my time, Dean. Not out of obligation. There’s nothing I’d rather do. There’s no one else I’d rather be with. There’s no place else I’d rather be.” 

Dean flushed and dropped his gaze away from Cas. A wave of affection that was a too strong for him to deal with washed over him. His eyes were prickling and his chest felt tight. “Jesus, Cas,” he protested softly. “You can’t just go and _say_ shit like that.” 

Cas looked confused. “But it’s the truth.”

“Yeah, you’re not that great at lyin, are you? Good god. Gimme a minute to recover from that.” Dean exhaled heavily and ran a hand over his face. Then he opened the door, clasped Cas’s hand, and pulled the angel into the room with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes just being dudes ... who have feelings? Of the romantical kind? Whaaaa???


	5. Just Two Dudes Who Are Sleeping Together. But Not "Sleeping Together."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and then Sam find out that Dean and Cas have been sleeping together. Dean is upset, because they both think he and Cas are "sleeping together." Cas fails to understand the distinction.

A couple hours after Dean had fallen asleep one night, Cas’s cell phone went off. He got out of bed, carefully tucked the covers back around Dean, and rifled through his coat pockets. 

“Hello? Claire?”

“Castiel. Hey, um. There’s weird stuff going on in the place I’ve been staying at. I think it’s demons or . . . something like that. Can you help me out?” 

“Yes, of course.” Cas stepped into his pants, cradling the phone against his shoulder. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” 

“Um, that’s the thing. I’m at the bunker—I still have the key you gave me last time. I’m in one of the bedrooms—I thought it was yours, but it’s empty. Where are you?” 

“I’m, uh,” Cas glanced back at Dean. His head was tilted back against the pillows. Soft snores came out of his parted lips, and a line of drool dangled from the corner of his mouth.

Dean had told Cas, multiple times, that for some reason (which Dean refused to fully explain) no one should know about Cas being in his room every night. 

“I’m in the bunker. I’ll come meet you in the hallway. See you in a minute.” Cas ended the call, buttoned his pants, and threw his arms through his dress shirt. He walked out of the room barefoot, softly shut the door behind him, and belatedly remembered to zip his fly. 

“Castiel!” 

He looked up sharply. “Claire! I’m glad that you made it here all right.” 

She gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah, yeah. But, um, whose room did you sneak out of just now?” 

Cas stared at the door, then at Claire. He felt torn between being honest with Claire and keeping Dean’s secret. “I—it—it doesn’t matter.” 

“Were you in there with someone?”

“I—um, well … yes?”

Claire’s eyes widened. She leaned in conspiratorially. “What? With who?”

“I …” 

Claire looked at the door, then scanned the hallway in both directions. 

“Wait … Isn’t that Dean’s room? It is, isn’t it?” 

Cas said nothing, but Claire took his refusal to look her in the eye as confirmation. 

“Castiel. What were you doin in there?” 

“Please keep your voice down.”  

“Is Dean sleeping in there right now?” 

“Yes.” 

Claire gaped, then chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Jeez, no wonder you wanted me to like him . . .”

Cas held his head in his hands. He sighed. “Claire, please don’t tell Sam that Dean and I are sleeping together.” 

Claire narrowed her eyes. “His own brother doesn’t know that you guys are sleeping with each other? Even though you all live together? What, is Dean still in the closet?” 

Cas squinted and blinked a few times. “He’s not in the closet. He’s sleeping in his bed right now. But this is something of a recent development, and Dean feels it’s a very personal matter, so, no, Sam doesn’t know about it.” 

Claire had a smile on her face. “Okay, fine, I won’t tell him. Just saying, I’ll be surprised if Sam doesn’t know already. You and Dean were pretty obvious last time I spent time with you guys.”

“Obvious? About what?” 

“You seemed very …” Claire gestured with her hands, “couple-y.” 

“What does that—”

The door opened and Dean stepped out, rubbing the heel of his hand against his face. He was wearing boxers and a t-shirt that was too tight.

“Cas, come back to—oh.” Dean froze when he saw Claire. He gestured between himself and Castiel. “Me and him aren’t—this isn’t—we weren’t—” 

Claire sighed and held up her hands. “Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to your brother.” She pointed a finger at him. “You be good to my weird angel sort-of-dad now, okay?” 

Dean raised his eyebrows but kept his mouth shut. 

Claire turned back to Castiel. “I can tell you the details about the case in the morning. I guess I’ll crash in your room ’til then.” She leaned over to make eye contact with Dean. “Since Castiel obviously isn’t using _his_ bedroom right now.” 

Dean sputtered indignantly and retreated back into his room. He left the door open a crack. 

Castiel looked after Dean a bit helplessly, then turned back to Claire. “That’s a good plan. However, I don’t need to sleep, so we can discuss details now if you’d like.” 

“Nah, it’s late, I’m tired. I can tell all of you guys about it at the same time in the morning.” 

“Are you hungry? Can I get you anything to eat?” 

Claire’s lips quirked up fondly. “I know where the kitchen is. I’m a big girl, I can do that myself.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “See you in the morning. Tell that boyfriend of yours to behave himself; we’ve all got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.” 

Castiel’s cheeks felt hot. “He isn’t my . . . boyfriend,” he muttered, as Claire waggled her fingers and walked down the hallway. 

He frowned and paused a bit, looking at the door to Dean’s room. Things had been rough between Claire and Dean in the past. Lots of pain, anger, and frustration tended to stir up when she and Dean were around each other. Maybe Dean would rather be alone—

“You comin’ back to bed or what?” 

Castiel smiled and walked back into Dean’s room, shutting the door softly behind him. 

 

The job went smoothly. The demons were found and exorcized, without any lasting harm to the human vessels. And Claire was true to her word. She didn’t tell Sam or anyone else that Dean and Cas were ‘snuggle buddies,’ as she called them (after Castiel had begged her to quit calling Dean his boyfriend, given that it was inaccurate). 

Dean and Cas had been sleeping in the same bed every night for about three weeks before Sam finally noticed. 

 

 

Instead of slowly and peacefully becoming conscious, like he usually did when Cas slept over, Dean woke abruptly at the sound of a loud noise.

_Rap rap rap!_

“Don’t come in!” Dean hollered. But the door was already opening. Sam’s voice boomed through the doorway.

“Dean, up and at ‘em, you overslept. We’ve got that job in Utah we need to get on the road for, and I can’t find Cas— _Oh._ ” 

Dean hid his face in the nook between the pillows and Cas’s back. 

“Good morning, Sam,” Cas said, as if it were perfectly normal for two dude best buds to spoon together all night and then be caught in the act the next morning. 

“Uh . . . hey,” Sam said, slowly surveying the room. Cas’s bare arm was linked over Dean’s bare arm. Which was wrapped tightly around Cas. Cas’s clothes—coat, suit, even his _pants_ and _shirt_ —were draped in disarray on the chair by the bed. Dean was hiding his face against Cas in mortification. 

Sam slowly backed out of the doorway. “I’ll just . . . finish packing up the car. We can meet up by the Impala when you’re ready to go. I’ll just let you guys . . .” Sam trailed off awkwardly. Dean pried his arm away from Cas’s and frantically shooed Sam away, still lying down and hiding his face. “Right, yeah. Uh, see ya later,” Sam said.

Sam closed the door and exhaled. _What in the hell?_  

 

Yeah, Sam had gradually become aware that Dean and Cas’s “profound bond” was more than mere friendship, but Dean had always seemed so stubbornly phobic of anything that wasn’t strictly viewed as masculine and straight. Sam was really glad his brother had apparently gotten over that. He loved him and wanted him to be happy. But he _also_ wanted Dean to give him a heads up if he was gonna start shacking up with their mutual friend. Sam never would have barged in if he’d known Cas was going to be in there with Dean. And like _with him_ with him. 

Sam thought about the other compromising situations he’d caught his brother in over the years and decided to count himself lucky that the covers had been up. 

 

Back on the other side of the bedroom door, Dean shoved his face deeper between the pillow and Cas’s back and moaned despondently. 

“Are you feeling all right?” Cas asked. 

“ _No_.”

 

 

 

Dean had forbade Sam from asking him about what was going on with him and Cas under the pretense that it would distract them from the job. 

Sam thought it was a flimsy excuse, but he went along with it. He made sure to get two separate rooms when they checked into their motel, though. 

And yeah, Dean had made a face when he learned that each room had only one bed. But Cas had his grace fully restored, and didn’t need to sleep. Plus, Dean wasn’t fooling anyone. If Cas did want to lay down and rest for the night, he sure as hell didn’t need his own separate bed. 

Once the job was successfully competed and they were on the road back home, Sam tried to subtly work this new development between Dean and Cas into the conversation. But he’d underestimated his brother’s unwillingness to talk about it. A simple “So how’d you sleep last night, Dean?” was enough to make Dean’s arms give a huge, involuntary twitch that sharply cranked the steering wheel. Dean had to quickly correct course to avoid plowing Baby right into a guardrail. 

After that incident, Dean had invoked a no-talking rule. The only sound the rest of the ride home was the radio.

 

 

 

Right after the three of them had stepped inside the bunker, Sam resumed his questioning. 

“When were you guys gonna tell me you’re sleeping together?” 

“We’re _not_ sleeping together,” Dean snapped. 

Castiel frowned. “Yes, we are.” 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay, yes, we’re sleeping in the same bed, but we’re not—” Dean made a hand gesture that Castiel didn’t understand. 

“We’re not . . . making circles out of our hands and thrusting our forefingers into them?” Castiel hazarded. 

Dean threw his hands in the air. “Cas, could you give me and Sammy a minute?” 

Castiel nodded and walked down the stairs. 

Sam watched him leave and then turned his gaze on his brother. “Okay, I guess I believe you. Either he’s _really_ good at playing dumb, or you guys aren’t actually, _sleeping together_ sleeping together.” 

Dean made a face. “We are not ‘sleeping together’ sleeping together.” 

He picked up his duffle and made his way down the stairs. Sam followed.  

Dean huffed. “You know how helpless he is with social interactions, how it takes him a long time to pick stuff up. Sex is a really . . . intimate social interaction. He . . . watches porn and thinks that it’s depicting a friggin love story. I mean, he’s come a long way since he first touched down here from heaven, but that’s not really saying all that much . . . What? What’s with your face?” 

“Soo, ah, you clarified that your not sleeping together in the ah, adult sense of the term—”

“Yeah, glad ya finally picked up on that, I’ve been talkin myself blue in the face.” 

“But the _reason_ you aren’t having sex with Cas is because he’s hopelessly awkward with social interactions and not really ready for a sexual relationship.” 

“I mean, yeah. Come on Sam, you know the guy. You can’t tell me you disagree.” 

“Um, I don’t but . . .” Sam winced and rubbed the back of his head. “You’re not having sex with Cas because you feel like he’s not ready for sex.” 

“He’s totally not, Sammy.” 

“So if he were, would you want to have sex with him?” 

“Uh . . . what?” Dean looked back at Sam.

“I asked you if you guys were making the beast with two backs, and your response wasn’t ‘No, I don’t want to have sex with Cas,’ it was, ‘No, Cas isn’t ready for a sexual relationship.’ So, I take that to mean that the reason you’re not having sex with Cas is simply because he’s not ready for a relationship like that, not because you don’t want to have sex with Cas.” 

Dean stopped walked and stared at Sam.

“Uhhhhhhhh . . . no? May—shut up, it’s academic, anyway.” 

Dean sped off to his room and shut the door behind him. He threw the duffle on his bed and glanced around. 

Cas wasn’t there. Dean felt a pang of disappointment. Then he felt irritated with himself for being disappointed. 

He snagged a bottle of whiskey out of his desk and took a pull right from the bottle. 

 

Dean continued drinking throughout dinner with Sam and Cas. His brother and his … _friend_ , just a platonic friend, speculated about the implications of a new bit of lore they’d discovered while researching the case. Dean had mostly stayed silent, focusing his attention on his food and his whiskey. 

When Sam finished eating, he cleared his plate away and smiled at Dean and Cas. “I’ll just … give the two of you some alone time.” 

Cas tilted his head at Sam. 

Dean sent his brother a murderous scowl over the edge of his whiskey glass. 

Once Sam was out of the room, Cas turned to face Dean. “I’m still confused as to why you told Sam that we’re not ‘sleeping together’ sleeping together. I don’t see how using finger quotations changes the meaning of that phrase, though it seemed to make a great deal of difference to Sam.” 

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and took another sip of whiskey. He’d thought they’d laid that issue to rest. “Cas. There is a big difference between sleeping together and _sleeping together_.” 

Cas narrowed his eyes in concentration. “See, there you inflected, and made a sweeping gesture with your hands. But you haven’t provided any context for me to possibly understand the difference between sleeping together and—” he raised his hands to make finger-quotes.

Dean slammed his glass down on the table. “Sex, Cas! Having sex! When somebody says that people are ‘sleeping together,’ usually they don’t mean those people are just sleeping! Usually when two adults—who aren’t related—are sleeping in the same bed every night it’s because they’re having sex with each other on a lot of those nights, too.” 

He took a deep breath, then distractedly added, “And mornings, sometimes. Or lazy afternoons.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. That’s what Sam meant. When he, ah. Said ‘sleeping together’ like that. With the quotes. And the, ah, inflection.” He took another big gulp of whiskey. 

“So, Sam’s confusion when you said we weren’t ‘sleeping together’ is because his initial assumption on seeing both of us in your bed was that we _were_ ‘ _sleeping_ _together_.’” Cas used finger quotes and imitated Dean’s inflection.

Dean coughed and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, I ah, guess so.” 

Castiel frowned. “Why would he assume that you and I have been engaging in sexual relations with one another?” 

Dean spat about an ounce of whiskey across the table and coughed. “Hell if—I don’t—” Dean took a deep breath. “Okay, first of all, don’t call it ‘engaging in sexual relations.’” 

“Why not? It’s much more straightforward than confusing euphemisms.” 

Dean sighed. “Whatever.” 

“You didn’t answer my initial question.” 

“What question?” 

“Why do you think Sam was so quick to assume we’ve been having sexual intercourse together?” 

Dean could feel a flush in the middle of his chest, working its way up to his neck and his entire face. He gulped down the rest of his drink and stood up. 

“I’m either too drunk or not drunk enough for this conversation,” Dean said, and walked out of the kitchen.

And dammit, he shouldn’t have looked back at Cas. The poor guy looked forlorn and confused. 

 

A couple hours later, Cas tentatively knocked at Dean’s bedroom door. 

Dean cracked the door open and peered at him. 

Cas looked down and shifted from one foot to the other. “I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to—”

Dean sighed in exasperation and relief. “Yeah, I still want to. C’mon in.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sam and Claire have the same initial assumptions when they learn that Dean and Cas have been sharing a bed. Seems like neither of them think that Dean and his angel buddy are very heterosexual or dudebro-y. 
> 
> Will Dean admit to himself that they could be on to something? 
> 
>  
> 
> Stayyy tunnnned for the final chapter ...


	6. Just Dudes Being Dudes Who Love Each Other And Wanna Be Together, Romantical-Styles. Yes Homo. All Of The Homo.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally comes to terms with his true feelings instead of trying to no-homo them away with machismo and denial under the guise of bro culture.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table tapping away at his laptop. There was steaming mug of coffee next to him.

Dean walked in, rubbing his hair and yawning. “ _Man_ am I tired. And hungry.” He set a frying pan on the stove. 

Sam sipped his coffee and kept typing. “Where’s your other half? You guys are sleeping together, don’t you get out of bed at the same time, too?” 

“Cas is resting.” 

Sam frowned. “Cas’s grace is at like one hundred percent. He doesn’t need to rest.” 

Dean looked over his shoulder and grinned. “Trust me, he does.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “What? Why would he—oh my god!” Sam’s eyes went wide as he noticed Dean’s bedhead and the red marks all over his neck—and on the inside of his elbows. “Are those _hickies_?”

Dean grinned and waggled his eyebrows. 

“Did you, did you guys really—?” 

Dean’s grin widened and he continued waggling his eyebrows.

“ _Finally_. Thank god.” 

“You’re tellin _me._ Last night was—” 

Sam held up a hand. “Dean, look, I’m very happy for you—and Cas, too of course—but __I do _not_  need a play-by-play of last night.” 

“Last night _and_ this morning,” Dean said smugly. 

“See? There you go, that’s already more than I wanted to know.” 

Dean laid strips of bacon on the frying pan. “Sammy, I always tell you about my love life.” 

“Yes! And I always tell you that I don’t wanna hear it!” 

Before Dean could make a rebuttal, Cas walked in. He raised one hand in a bit of a bashful, awkward greeting. Sam smile and nodded at him. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” Dean stepped away from the stove and to wrap Cas up in his arms. He kissed him on the lips, then leaned in to murmur, “I missed you.” 

“Dean, we’ve only apart for ten minutes.” 

“Mmm, well I still missed you.” 

Cas smiled and hid his face between Dean’s neck and shoulder. 

Sam’s lower lip was trembling and his eyes were over-bright. He walked over and put his arms around both of them. Dean rolled his eyes, trying to play it off like Sam being happy about this wasn’t a big deal to him. Cas and Dean still had their arms wrapped around each other, but Cas leaned into Sam’s hug  & smiled up at Dean.

“I’m so happy for you—ugh!” Sam stopped holding them as tightly and straightened up. “You guys _reek_ of sex.” 

Cas lowered his head and sniffed his undershirt. 

Dean just grinned. “Well, that’s not exactly surprising, considering—”

Sam released them and stepped away. “I’m not hugging either of you again until you guys shower.” 

“Mmm, that could be fun,” Dean said, leaning his forehead against Cas’s and rubbing their noses together. 

“Uuuugh. Could you—not—talk about that kinda stuff right in front of me?”

“Feel free to get lost anytime, Sammy,” Dean said, trailing a line of kisses down Cas’s neck. 

Sam chugged his coffee and shut his laptop. Still, he’d called this ages ago, and he couldn’t resist ribbing Dean as he walked by. 

“So, Dean, I guess you finally dropped that ridiculous ‘just dudes being dudes’ thing.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talkin about,” Dean scoffed. “We’re just two dudes,” he kissed Cas’s jaw, “who love each other,” he kissed Cas on the lips, “and wanna be together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet ending to the saga of Dean frantically trying to explain away his gay feelings with heteronormative bro culture. 
> 
> I'd left this hanging for months; it feels good to to bring everything together in a conclusion with Dean's bro crisis resolved, and Dean and Cas together (like "together" together). 
> 
> Thanks to everybody who subscribed and commented and kudos-ed! This was my first multi-chapter fic, and I had so much fun writing it. Hope you had fun reading it. :)


End file.
